


dinner

by thefudge



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Dark, F/M, Gen, M/M, OT3, murderous family, ost: blondie - atomic, slightly dark dinah lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24046540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: They come together. Dinah/Roman/Victor
Relationships: Dinah Lance/Roman Sionis, Dinah Lance/Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz, Dinah Lance/Victor Zsasz, Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Ужин](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24070834) by [MiceLoveCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiceLoveCat/pseuds/MiceLoveCat)



> guess who finally watched birds of prey 
> 
> (i have somewhat ambivalent thoughts on the movie, but i knew i wanted to write about this murder family! granted, i'm tweaking the characters and their relationships, but honestly, the movie didn't quite deliver on my hyper-fixations, so i took it upon my self, as usual. just a warning, this is kinda cheesy, but i had a lot of fun, and i hope you also enjoy!)

The really shitty thing about Roman is that he's not even a halfway decent butcher. She could respect that, at least. She could respect savagery with purpose. 

But he's just a clinical eunuch. He has no blood in him, even though he loves to see it pool at his feet. He can't even cut his own nails right, much less a person. 

The extra shitty thing about Roman is that he knows how to find people who _are_ good at butchering. 

It's his one talent, his one lure. 

He may pretend to be a patron of the arts, but he's a patron of killers. He knows just how to entice them.

So.

This is why, in the middle of dinner, he springs up a "surprise" on her. 

Dinah sets down her champagne glass. Not that she was really drinking much. She looks over the three men who have been dragged into the foyer, bound and gagged. 

"And they are…?"

Roman claps his hands, looking as giddy as a child in a candy store. 

"I'm very glad you asked. They, little bird, are the men who killed your mother."

Dinah's fork bypasses her plate and clatters to the floor. She breaks into a strange, pained smile and grips the table's edge. _No._

How does Roman know about her mother - how did he - he's _lying_ \- probably testing her - she needs to breathe - she hates this fucking penthouse - 

Roman smiles back. "I suppose you know your mother's dead?"

His sick sense of humor makes her want to throttle him, but she stays her hand. 

"There's not a day that I don't think about it," she manages to say.

Roman nods. "As you should. Mothers are very formative, you know. Mine happened to be a cow - No, _worse_ than a cow. It's her fault I'm so terribly maladjusted." 

But his scowl quickly folds back into a grin. "But this isn't about me. This is about you, little bird. That there is Al Hawke, and those two are his right-hand men. I believe they, uh, made your mother go _boom_." He mimics the explosion of limbs with perfect, tasteless histrionics. 

Dinah allows herself to look at the older man whose head droops down, widow's peak glinting in the moonlight. She can tell he's already been bloodied. The younger men at his side have red in their mouths and are moaning quietly. 

"Dear Victor had a go at them earlier, but I didn't let him do much," Roman adds with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I figured you'd want the lion's share." 

She's noticed Victor's absence. He was not allowed to be present for their “dinner”. He must be chafing somewhere nearby. She'd almost welcome his interruption. 

Dinah looks at Roman. "What - what do you expect me to do?"

He frowns. "Well, I didn’t think I’d have to _tell_ you. Revenge is a universal language, after all. Or maybe you've forgiven them for their crimes? It would be very noble of you, little bird."

Dinah clenches her jaw. "No. I haven't." 

Roman rubs his hands gleefully. "I didn't think so. We both like to hold on to our grudges, don't we?"

Dinah gets up slowly. She pushes the chair back in its place. She knows Roman likes a clean table. 

She walks around the table, keeping her eyes on the three men. She's shaking all over, but trying not to show it. There are faint scars on Hawke's bald forehead - the marks of plastic surgery.

Dinah exhales. So, it is him. That's why she couldn't find him for so long. He'd changed his identity. 

Al lifts his head. The look he gives her is a mixture of fear and contempt. 

Dinah feels like she could do anything. 

She knows what Detective Montoya would say. _Your mother would not have wanted you to do this._

Yeah, her mother wouldn't have wanted her to work for Roman Sionis either. Her life has just been one trainwreck after another. This one, at least, is a trainwreck she'll enjoy. 

She walks towards them, pulling out a small blade from the back of her pantsuits, when Roman suddenly speaks up.

"Oh, you're gonna gut them like little piggies?” He sounds disappointed. “I suppose that's one way to do it. But it’s really unimaginative.”

Dinah glances over her shoulder. "I’m not looking to be creative.”

Roman shakes a finger. “As long as you work for me, you’re going to make a fucking effort.”

Dinah bites her tongue. “Why – why are you doing this?”

Roman presses a hand to his chest. "I haven’t done anything yet! Now, pocket that blade, little bird. We both know you can do better.”

His tone is genial, but the underside is scabrous. His henchmen stand idly in doorways, waiting for her to move.

She pockets the blade with a grunt.

" _Excellent_ ," Roman purrs. "Now, you may kill them, of course.”

Dinah is tired of his games. She’s tired of having dinner with him at random hours of the night because he's in the mood for a "snack" with his "songbird". He's never tried to touch her, but there's something more insidious than his lecherous hand on her. She'd almost prefer it to this. 

"How am I supposed to do that exactly?" she asks quietly. 

Roman is right behind her. 

"Use your best skill, darling. _Sing_."

There's quiet, except for the three men’s soft moans.

Dinah forces a laugh. "Sing? Am I that _bad_?" 

Roman guffaws. He's delighted with her sense of humor. He's closer now, almost breathing down her neck.

"No, little bird, quite the opposite. You're too _good_. Now, crack their skulls with that sweet, sweet voice of yours."

Dinah’s smile is stretched thin. She can’t look him in the eye.

So.

He knows this too.

Maybe she should have foreseen it. After all, he sat there every night, listening to her.

He's her biggest fan.

She closes her eyes. _Shit_. If he knows this, he'll never let her go. She's in big fucking trouble. 

"Come ooon," he drawls in her ear, "you know you want to do it. You're _dying_ to." 

And she hates how right he is, how much she's willing to lose at the moment. She wants to take them all out, every last one of them, Roman included.

But he's not that stupid. His gloved hand hovers over her shoulder. "Just make sure you hit the right target."

A red dot suddenly appears in the hollow between bones. It travels slowly to her throat, climbs to her lips and the slant of her nose and settles in the middle of her forehead.

Dinah exhales with a shaky laugh. Of course. "This part of the surprise?"

Roman beams. "What's a party without a secret sniper?"

"A dull affair," she quips, flexing her fingers. She doesn't catch her boss' rather love-struck gaze. 

Her attention is trained on the men in front of her. 

Fine. Fucking fine. 

She inhales, filling her lungs to excess. Her body sways to a song that plays in the distance, deep inside. 

Roman suddenly holds the glass of champagne in front of her face. “To the soprano.”

Sometimes, the thing inside her doesn’t feel her own. The voice claws out of her throat and she feels sweet, agonizing relief. The gale of sound shatters the champagne glass in sharp slivers which drive quickly into the three men’s chests. The rest of their dinner follows the same trajectory, pieces of glass and china slashing and carving her mother’s killers, sinking deep into their flesh.

When it’s over, Al Hawke and his men are lying in a pool of blood. She has somehow managed to gouge Al’s eyes out.

Dinah staggers back.

Roman catches her, arm at the back of her waist.

“That was _glorious_ , little bird!” There’s a small trickle of blood running down his ear. He didn’t cover them. Crazy fucker.

“I knew it. I knew you were special.”

Dinah doesn’t like the way he’s smiling at her, all earnest and worshipful.

His soft gaze quickly morphs into something grim as he turns to snap at his guards. “Well, what the FUCK are you waiting for?? Clean this shit up! My songbird and I want to finish our dinner.”

 _Oh, fuck no_ , Dinah thinks, exhausted, but tingling with post-high bliss. She can’t sit down at that table and pretend nothing happened.

She doesn’t look when the three corpses are dragged away and the glass is swept aside.

She did that.

She feels nothing. And nothing feels like an empty pit, growing bigger.

Dinah grabs Roman’s arm. “Please can we…raincheck…I need to lie down…”

And he’s suddenly all concern for her.

“Oh, _gosh_ , of course you need to lie down. Come with me, sweetheart.”

He leads her haphazardly to a red velvet couch and sinks her down, stroking the locs away from her face. 

“What do you need?” he asks fervently, standing over her, in a pantomime of a servant.

It’s strange to look at her boss from this vantage point. For all his neediness, he likes to be needed too. He likes prostrating from time to time. When you’ve got enough power, you like giving it up.

And she feels powerful too, right now. Fuck his sniper. She could still kill him this second. The buzz of song inside her makes her drunk with it. The post-high bliss hasn’t vanished. It's getting stronger. Fuck, she needs an outlet.

She grabs his fancy cravat, tugs on it boldly. “Will you do something for me, Roman?”

His face ripples with indignation and delight in equal measure. God yeah, he wants to do something for her, and then punish her for even asking.

Dinah leans back. “Will you call Victor in?”

Roman frowns.

Not what he expected.

Dinah shakes off the shame. 

She just killed her mother’s killers. She’s not going to feel guilty tonight.

She just wants to feel good.

Victor is so fucking easy. He stares at her in reproach, because he hates how much his happiness depends on her.

Dinah mouths a “you owe me” as Roman Sionis unbuttons his shirt slowly, running his finger appreciatively down the scars. Victor is dizzy with desire. He’s afraid of touching his boss, afraid everything will be over. Roman takes his henchman’s face between his hands and kisses him on the lips. Gently, tentative, just a hint of possessiveness. One eye open, looking at Dinah. Roman wants to know if she’s watching.

Dinah smiles approvingly.

She twirls her fingers the same way he does when he wants something to be done. And done _well_.

Roman exults, thrilled by his mirror. He deepens Victor’s kiss, swallowing his moans.

Roman soon forgets what he was doing this for. Victor’s mouth is so warm and generous and there’s even a little bite in it. Exasperated bite, like he was waiting to do this _forever_. Victor must have hungered for so long, it sends a jolt to Roman’s cock. Victor licks the small of his back and drags his teeth over the curve of his ass. Roman stutters, digs his nails in the parquet as his loyal lackey eats him out, loosens his asshole with two fingers, positions himself behind him, picture-perfect, as his little bird touches herself on the couch, eyes half-lidded.

Oh, to live in this one fucking moment forever, he thinks, struck by the portrait they make. He wants to frame it, then fuck it. He groans, blinded by pleasure.

Dinah’s moans are sweet, songlike. Her voice washes over them, rushes down their spine, disturbs the sensitive nerves there, reminds them of her power. They shudder and moan for it. She meets Victor’s eyes as he drives into Roman with a satisfied grunt. There’s still something coiled there, something mean and hard in his gaze, but she has earned, if not his devotion, at least his unmitigated respect. Roman is secretly easy to please. It's Victor who's the challenge, so when he winks at her, she feels it in her toes. His eyes are locked on her hand, moving fast over her clit. And Dinah shudders.

They come together.

Later, Roman tells Victor to thank the little bird. It was her idea after all.

And Dinah has never known this kind of dissonant experience. She never wanted their combined attention, but _God_ she’s really happy with Victor’s head between her thighs and his grimy face and his grimy fingers leaving marks on her flesh, and his sloppy mouth too, and the velvet is so wet under her, and Roman plunges his finger in her mouth and makes her jaw widen for him. As if he wanted to capture that voice inside her.

She lets him.

Dinner doesn't end until sunrise. 


End file.
